


to all the boys and all the girls

by shyberius



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: Bi Evan, Bisexual, Bisexual Evan, Connor is smol and pure, Deh - Freeform, Drama, Evan Hansen - Freeform, Evan is a bisexual mess, Evan writes a lot of letters, F/F, F/M, Fake Dating, Family Dinners, Fluff, Fluffy, He doesn't mean to send them out, Letters, Lies, M/M, Pet Names, Redemption, Romance, SINCERELY ME, Sixteen candles - Freeform, Skiing, To All The Boys I've Loved Before AU, Tree Bros, Treebros, Weed, Zoe is terrifying, but he has a redemption arc, connor Murphy - Freeform, dear evan hansen - Freeform, fake boyfriends, fake dating au, jared is a snarky lemon, romantic, sincerely three, skis, so is alana, tree jokes, what happens next will shock you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-08-24 13:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16641414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyberius/pseuds/shyberius
Summary: Evan has a lot of crushes. Like, a lot.When he gets a crush so intense that he doesn't know what to do, he writes it down. In a letter. Each letter is addressed to someone he's loved before, and each letter is kept safe and secret in a box under his bed.Until, somehow, the letters get out.Or: An accidental love letter lands Evan as Connor's fake boyfriend.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm so in love with you that it's become part of me. You've clawed your way into my soul, and now you're here, and I can't get you out. You're permanent. You're that dark part of me that I don't want to admit is there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a 'To All the Boys I've Loved Before' au for the characters of Dear Evan Hansen! It's a chaotic, unashamedly romantic mess, a bit like Evan. Who, by the way, is unabashedly bisexual. And he's not quiet about it.
> 
> No prior knowledge of 'To All the Boys I've Loved Before' (film or book) is required for you to enjoy this fic.

_Dear Zoe,_

_You were my first crush._ Are _. And if I had half the confidence you have, I would have just spat it out already. Let myself be rejected. Surely the first time hurts more than the inevitable next a thousand times._

_But I can't tell you. I tried lying to myself that I would, but I know myself, and I know that the moment I open my mouth, chaos spills out. The bad kind. Which is why I'm writing you this letter._

_Well, I say_ you _as if I'm actually going to send it. I'm not. I guess that makes this letter for myself only._

_I don't know if you can tell, but I write better than I speak. If I spoke the way I thought, without my stupid self getting in the way, my life would be easier, and I wouldn't be writing this._

_But I don't need to tell you that I can't speak. You've heard me. That's what I call the Great Jazz Band Incident of 2017. I might as well have been that bee from The Bee Movie saying, "you like jazz?" for all the good I did for myself._

_That's a weird movie. But this is a weird letter, so go figure._

_I guess what I'm trying to say is that, yes, I have loved you. I don't know if what I feel now is love, because time and apathy have stretched my feelings beyond recognition. I just want you to know that you were my first crush, and you'll always hold that place, because I can't exactly go back in time and have a crush on someone else before you._

_But even if I could choose anyone to fall in love with, rest assured it would still be you. Because if I had to be rejected by anyone, I'd let you do it, because you'd be the kindest._

_Sincerely,_

_Evan Hansen_

_*_

_To Jared,_

_I want to thank you. Not for anything specific you've done, because let's face it: you haven't been kind to me. But I'm not writing this to tell you that. You already know that full well._

_I actually want to thank you for helping me figure out who I am, which sounds cliché, but is true to the word, I promise. Let me explain._

_We were thirteen. This was before middle school ended and high school began, which was before you figured out how much of a loser I was and downgraded me from 'friend' to 'family friend' (thanks for that). I can't pinpoint the exact moment we stopped being friends, but it likely coincided with the bomb that was high school and when you needed to pay your car insurance._

_Back to before all that happened. We were thirteen, and I was sitting in your basement, specifically on that beanbag your mom always said would give you premature back problems. But then again, you mom ill-judged a lot of things, such as the use of the words 'play date' in the context of thirteen-year-olds._

_We were playing MarioKart, I was in twelfth place as opposed to your second, and for the first time in my short life I was hyper-aware of your knee bumping against mine and the way you licked your top lip when you were concentrating. My hands were sweating. I kept on falling off the racetrack and having to start again, and you kept on saying things like, "What's got into you?" and "You're making this too easy!"_

_When we finally finished the race, I let the control slip out of my hands and just stared at you, in the unabashed way only thirteen-year-olds on the cusp of an epiphany can. Then something happened that made me turn scarlet and I had to run to the bathroom before you saw it._

_At first I was in denial about this incident. Because, in my prepubescent mind, boys and boys didn't mix. It took a few tactful conversations with my mom and more than a few clandestine Google searches to figure out that there was, for a fact, nothing wrong with me, and that, for another fact, boys with boys was...fine._

_But I needed you in order to figure that one out. So thank you, and all that._

_Sincerely,_

_Evan Hansen_

_*_

_Dear Alana,_

_My relationship with you was very short, very intense, and very imaginary._

_Let me explain, and take you back to sophomore year. You were the leader of the School Council, and I was an eager member of the Environment Committee. One night, after school, there was a joint meeting of all the student bodies in the school, and that's how I found myself sitting across from you while you made a speech, took notes, and generally looked lovely._

_You still do. Look lovely, I mean. Especially when you're so focused on note-taking that you don't notice anyone around you, and your glasses slip to the end of you nose and your braids fall out of their place behind your ear._

_Anyway, after that meeting, we sent emails to each other about the school's schemes to promote awareness for the environment. Like litter-picking schemes, money collections for Greenpeace, and anything else that came under the Environment Committee's agenda. You'd always help me organise those sorts of events._

_Once, I put an 'x' at the end of one of my emails to you. You didn't respond with another 'x', so I assumed that you didn't feel the same way._

_Strangely, I got over you quickly. I don't mean to sound harsh, but your efficiency and organisational skills always kind of scared me. I hope you don't take that personally._

_Sincerely,_

_Evan Hansen_

_*_

_Dear Connor,_

_This is a difficult letter to write. Which is stupid, because it's not as if I'm ever going to_ send _it to you._

_This is, actually, the most difficult letter I've ever had to write. Why? Because I have trouble even believing myself when I say that I'm in love with you. How can I write about something I only half believe is real?_

_I'm so in love with you that it's become part of me. You've clawed your way into my soul, and now you're_ here _, and I can't get you out. You're permanent. You're that dark part of me that I don't want to admit is there._

_This is crazy. I'm trying to wrap my head around the possibility of loving the two of you at once, the two Murphys with their iron grips on my heart. It turns out you can be in love with more than one person at any given time._

_There was a time when I loved your sister, but that time is over. Now there's you, only you, and I never intended it to be like this, but here I am, begging you to understand._

_Except you'll never understand. And that's how I'll keep it, because this letter will stay with me._

_I've spent the past few months trying to figure out why it has to be you. Why it can't be someone else, someone unproblematic and reachable._

_All I'll say is this: you're dark. Really dark. At least, that's the way I see it. In my mind, everyone has a colour, and yours is pitch black. Maybe that's what attracts me to you: darkness and light. Chiaroscuro. A perfect contrast._

_Sincerely,_

_Evan Hansen_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Great Jazz Band Incident of 2017 indeed.
> 
> Also, I never thought I'd make a Bee Movie reference in my writing. We've hit hard times, my friends.


	2. The Captain, part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heidi's eyes glimmered with a special fondness for Zoe, the kind of fondness reserved for people who weren't quite strangers but weren't quite familiar either. "Thank you. And you have a lovely evening."
> 
> Zoe thanked her, and said she'd best be on her way. But just before the door closed, she thought she saw Evan smile at her: maybe not even a smile, but a small lifting of the corners of his mouth. Or perhaps she was imagining it because that was what she wanted.

_It matters not how strait the gate,_  
_How charged with punishments the scroll,_  
_I am the master of my fate,_  
_I am the captain of my soul._

Same seat at the desk. Tuesday. Some time between ten and four. There was an incessant tapping at the window, only instead of dropping away, it got louder.

Evan had known AP English would be a mistake.

 _I am the master of my fate,_  
_I am the captain of my soul._

What was that tapping noise? Evan dragged himself over to the window to have a look, but it was just the branch of a tree, loose in the wind.

That didn't mean it didn't set him on edge.

_I am the captain of my soul._

He wasn't, though, was he? He wasn't the master of anything. Poetry was a lie, Evan was an anxious mess, and his mom had left him the number for pizza takeaway but he'd be damned if he'd order some, because talking to someone that wasn't his mom or Jared was a fresh hell.

He wasn't the captain of his words. He never seized what he wanted. He wanted a takeaway pizza and someone to hold hands with, but he never got any closer to either of those things.

_I am the captain..._

Evan sat back down, defeated (by _what_ , he didn't know - perhaps it was himself), picking his pen back up to start the essay again.

_I am..._

Downstairs, a door slammed. She hadn't said she'd be home early, but at least this gave Evan an excuse to discard the essay and make his way to the kitchen, where she was standing in her boots and duffel coat as if ready to go out again.

When Heidi saw him, her weary face lit up. "Evan, hey. How was your day?"

"Okay. It was okay." Which wasn't a lie, but it wasn't strictly the truth either. The two balanced each other out in Evan's mind.

"Are you sure?" Heidi cupped his face in her hand, and Evan squirmed out of her reach. He hated it when she did that.

"Yep." Evan made a move to head back up to his room, but Heidi cleared her throat as if she had something more to say. _Is it bad news?_ Evan wondered, his breath hitching slightly in his throat. Because something like that might tip him over the edge, and then his mom would know that he was on the edge in the first place -

"I've got a day off tomorrow!" She exclaimed, beaming.

Evan stopped walking. "That's...that's great, mom. Really."

Heidi's face fell. "You don't seem happy about it."

An ache started up in Evan's chest, and it made him walk up to his mother and give her a hug, bending down so that they were the same height and she wouldn't make another comment on _how much you've grown, Evan_ and start crying. "I am happy," he said, still hugging her. "We can watch something tonight. I'll make dinner."

"Really?"

"Really."

*

When Zoe closed her eyes and she was flying, and the rooftops of the town she was trapped in were minuscule below her, just specks that didn't matter. Then she opened her eyes and she was back on the ground, just the pizza delivery girl on her shiny new bike with a pile of boxes stacked haphazardly on the back.

Her dad had insisted on the new bike. Zoe had actually been fine borrowing Connor's because they were practically the same height now, and anyway, _Connor never bothers to use his bike, so what's the point?_ But Larry was adamant on the subject.

The new bike was supposed to have been liberating, but instead Zoe only felt more incarcerated in her job. Because if she quit now, all Larry would say was that she was ungrateful, because _I bought you that bike just for your job._

Then there was the problem on the job itself. Her friends had commented, and not incorrectly, that she wasn't in need on extra cash. You could see that from the Murphys' front yard alone (professionally designed and regularly manicured). So why did she do it?

To which she'd tell herself, _nights like these._ Nights where the wind behind her felt like freedom, and she was spared the horror of the family meal.

Not to mention Evan Hansen.

She parked her bike on the sidewalk and checked the order: one margarita, one vegetarian. She knew who they were for, and she took them off the pile with a weird kind of familiarity.

His mom opened the door, smiling warmly, and she could see Evan hanging back behind her. He was wearing this perpetually startled expression, like he was surprised to see her. But she'd been delivering his pizza for months now, so it shouldn't have been a surprise.

Zoe handed over the pizzas - Evan didn't make eye contact when he took them - and politely waited while Heidi rummaged in her wallet for the money. "How are you?" Zoe asked, not just out of necessity, but because she was genuinely interested.

"Good!" Heidi replied brightly. She gestured to her clothes, which, for once, weren't her hospital uniform. "It's my day off tomorrow."

Zoe smiled softly. "And you're celebrating?"

"Of course. With a pizza." Heidi payed Zoe the correct amount.

"Well, I hope you have a great day off," said Zoe, pocketing the money. "You deserve it."

Heidi's eyes glimmered with a special fondness for Zoe, the kind of fondness reserved for people who weren't quite strangers but weren't quite familiar either. "Thank you. And you have a lovely evening."

Zoe thanked her, and said she'd best be on her way. But just before the door closed, she thought she saw Evan smile at her: maybe not even a smile, but a small lifting of the corners of his mouth. Or perhaps she was imagining it because that was what she wanted.

Zoe's feelings for Evan weren't romantic in the slightest. Deep down, if she really asked herself the truth, it was that she just wanted to be his friend. There was something about him and Heidi, the small, close family unit that she caught a glimpse of in the doorway, that she wanted to be part of. There was nothing problematic about the Hansens. There was nothing about Evan, nothing that she saw, that was unkind, or violent, or hateful.

Not that Zoe would ever tell him any of these things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you'd like to, let me know what you thought of it. Comments make my day!
> 
> ALSO the poem at the beginning is from 'Invictus' by William Ernest Henley.


	3. The Letters, part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This person was much taller than him. Long, dark hair. Pale, drawn skin. Stormy face.
> 
> And he was holding a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of anxiety.

They were everywhere.

Those shiny blue posters with their peppy slogans and clipart graphics. Plastered all over the notice boards outside every classroom, lurking in the most unlikely places, sellotaped to the front of poor victims’ lockers.

_Are you ready for the night of your life? The night to make your high school dreams come true?_

Evan hated it. He hated it with every fibre of his being.

_Make sure you have a date! Tickets are buy one, get one free!_

That four letter word, everywhere, taunting him, reminding him that he was alone in the world (or, at least, the crowded halls of high school).

Prom.

If Evan had been a different person, he would have been able to dismiss it for what it was: a tacky, money-grabbing monstrosity. But, no matter how hard he tried, Evan was _that_ person. He couldn’t help it. He was that person who secretly yearned for the chance to take someone to slow dance in the school gym. He wanted a stupid keychain with a picture of him and his date on it that probably cost $20.

More than anything, Evan just wanted someone to go with. _And_ the ability not to cry or have sweaty hands when even slightly overwhelmed, but hey, you couldn’t have everything. A prom date, at least, wasn’t too much to ask.

One such poster, shamelessly foreshadowing the school’s overpriced, alcohol-free mocktails, unhitched itself from the wall and drifted to the ground by Evan’s feet. He stared down at it for a while, dully mesmerised.

Until a polished Doc Marten came out of nowhere and stamped on it.

Evan looked up to see the person’s face.

“Evan, hi,” said Alana Beck, proud owner of the Docs. I was wondering if we could talk?”

Except it sounded less like a question to him and more like an instruction. Such was the authority of the president of the School Council.

The rest of the class had already left the room in their haste to get out of school, so it was just Evan and Alana, the latter clutching what looked like the entire syllabus to her chest and smiling awkwardly. “Listen, Evan, I’m really flattered, but…”

Evan frowned. _But what?_ He hadn’t spoken to her since he left the Environment Committee, and that had been in sophomore year.

Alana’s expression was borderline pitying. “I just don’t feel the same way. I think you’re nice, and everything, it's just…”

For one blissful second, Evan had no idea what she was talking about. All allusions were lost on him. Ah, to return to that moment of sweet ignorance. Alas, it didn’t last very long. In fact, the moment Evan Knew lined up exactly with the moment Alana pulled a letter out of her pocket.

Because it wasn’t just a letter. It was The Letter. That one.

Evan couldn’t even remember if he said goodbye, but the next thing he remembered doing was running out of the classroom as fast as he could carry himself.

*

The only redeeming feature of the school bathroom was that it was practically the only place untouched by the Plague of Prom Posters. Posters which, Evan realised with a sickening lurch, had probably been made by Alana.

At the thought of Alana, he almost vomited into the sink again.

He splashed freezing water onto his face quickly, in case anyone else came in. If they did, he’d probably just die right there. As if his current situation couldn’t be any more tragic: hiding in the school bathroom, scared of...what, exactly?

Oh, right. Alana Beck. But it wasn’t just her; it was the fact that she’d got his letter. The letter that he’d sworn never to send. The letter that he’d stowed away in a cardboard box under his bed to gather dust and (hopefully) never see the light of day.

The question wasn’t how the letters had got out - although that was a problem - but rather: if Alana’s letter had got out, wouldn’t it be reasonable to assume that the others had too?

And that was the last straw. Evan vomited into the sink again.

Who had sent the letters? Because now Evan’s life was officially ruined, and for once, it wasn’t his own fault, but someone else’s entirely.

“I _knew_ you’d be in here.”

Evan didn’t dare to turn around. He recognised that voice - hell, he’d recognise it in a crowd of a hundred similar voices. It was the voice that had mocked him continually since high school began.

Jared’s reflection in the mirror leered at him. “Aren’t you gonna turn around?”

Why - so you can destroy me to my face? Except Evan didn’t say that, Instead, he turned around like he’d been told to, and had his deepest fear confirmed: in Jared’s hand was a letter.

The first thing that Jared said was by no means tactful, but it was to the point, so at least Evan could thank him for not prolonging his agony. “Are you gay?”  
Usually, in moments like these, Evan’s hands would sweat, and he’d have to wipe them somewhere embarrassing. But now, inexplicably, his hands were dry like sandpaper. It was as if he’d spent all his anxiety, and now there was none left. He was just numb. “I’m bisexual, Jared.”

Jared shrugged. “Dude, that’s cool. Like, I couldn’t care less. But this,” he brandished the damning letter, “is a weird ass way of telling me. Like, you could have just...told me.”

How could Evan say that the letter was never meant to have been sent?

Jared regarded the letter in his hand the way you’d look at a piece of trash you couldn’t be bothered to throw in the bin. “This is such a sad letter, I can’t even be bothered to put it on the internet. Damn.”

Evan’s throat damn near closed up. “The - the what?”

“The _internet_. World wide web. Information sharing platform.”

No. No, no, no, no -

“Evan? You know I was joking, right?”

Evan’s vision was going blurry. Everything blended into each other: the bathroom stalls, the prom posters, Jared’s face. Had he stopped breathing? Quite possibly. This wouldn’t be the first time this had happened.

He was dimly aware of his legs carrying him out of the bathroom and away from Jared. Away from the letter. But his body felt distinctly like someone else’s.

Evan walked briskly away, keeping his head down and manically trying to collect the dregs of his thoughts. He wouldn’t stop until he was out of here, out of school, out of -

He walked face first into a wall. A wall that, upon further discovery, wasn’t a wall at all, but a human being.

Evan looked up from his feet to see who he’d walked into, hoping he’d get away with a hasty apology and nothing more.

This person was much taller than him. Long, dark hair. Pale, drawn skin. Stormy face.

And he was holding a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The letters are out!
> 
> Also hooray for Jared's sarcasm, like of course Evan knows what the internet is you snarky lemon


	4. The Letters, part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a way, Evan kind of wished that Connor had just punched him and got it over with. The prospect of waiting for whatever grisly fate Connor was going to dream up for him was infinitely worse than a black eye or a broken arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, our poor Evan thinks his situation can't get any worse.
> 
> But it does.
> 
> It really and truly does.

“I got your letter, dear,” said Connor Murphy in a faux high-pitched voice.

Evan stood frozen. He couldn’t have fathomed a situation in which so many of his bad decisions had caught up with him in such quick succession.

Connor pocketed the letter, but not before folding it carefully. He was oddly quiet, which worried Evan for the reason that it was the sort of charged silence that was usually followed by murder or an explosion. In movies, at least. “You know, it’s not often that I’m lost for words, Evan Hansen. But you’ve finally done it. Congratulations.”

The word _congratulations,_ in particular, dripped with thinly veiled sarcasm. Evan shivered involuntarily.

He couldn’t pull any manoeuvres to get out of it. No _It’s not what it looks like!_ Because it was. It was exactly what it looked like, scrawled neatly on the piece of paper in Connor’s pocket. Evan felt exposed in a way that made him want to curl up into a ball and never look up again.

Suddenly Connor was close. Really close. And the only thing Evan could think about was the small brown fleck in his right eye, which he’d never noticed before, but now he couldn’t un-notice it.

“I don’t like jokes.” Connor enunciated every word clearly, so that there was no doubt as to what he said. “Especially jokes that come in the form of fake love letters. Did that ever occur to you, Hansen?”

“I-it’s not…” _It’s not fake. It’s not a joke._

“I could punch you, you know,” said Connor reasonably, as if he threatened violence on a regular basis. “Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t.”

Evan had stopped breathing. There was no point, really, because he’d probably be lying dead in the janitor’s cupboard soon. He bet Connor would be good at covering up a murder.

Connor tapped his foot impatiently, his steel-toed boot making a clack, clack sound which echoed through the empty corridor. Evan flinched at every tap. “Aren’t you even going to _try_ to plead your innocence?”

When it became evident that Evan wasn’t going to plead his anything, Connor just sighed impatiently. “Don’t worry - you’re not getting off of this lightly. I’m just thinking of a way to make you pay.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, without so much as a backward glance. Evan watched as his dark, slender figure retreated round the corner.

In a way, Evan kind of wished that Connor had just punched him and got it over with. The prospect of waiting for whatever grisly fate Connor was going to dream up for him was infinitely worse than a black eye or a broken arm.

When Evan drove home, ready to bury himself in his room and never come out, fear wasn’t the only thing sprinting round his mind. There was also the deeply cold realisation that there was no one who loved him back. He'd have taken a blind punch over that any day.

*

Instead of brooding on previous events (which would, he decided, drive him into a descent of madness), he committed himself to the task of finding out who had sent the letters. Not that it mattered much now, when the damage was already done.

Nonetheless, the first thing Evan did when he got home was stumble up the stairs into his room and dive under his bed for the box. It should have been easy to find: just a medium-sized cardboard box with _Evan_ scrawled on the side in blue marker. So why wasn’t it there?

“Hi, honey. What are you doing down there?”

It was Heidi. Evan scrambled out from under his bed and stood up, trying to act normal and not at all like he’d just had the worst day of his life. “Nothing. Just...dusting.”

Heidi leaned on the doorframe, looking noticeably more relaxed from her day off. Her hair was down, and her shoulders were looser. “Are you looking for that box?”

Evan momentarily stopped breathing for what felt like the hundredth time today. This habit surely wasn’t good for him. “Th-the box?”

“Yeah,” she beamed. “The one with the letters. I thought, since I had time today, that I’d start on some spring cleaning, and your room was the first one I cleared out.”

Evan had been too focused on finding the box to notice that, yes, his room did look different: his clothes were folded neatly on the bed, and his desk was clear from clutter. So why the creeping feeling that something was seriously wrong?

“I thought,” Heidi continued, “that if I posted those letters, it would be one thing off your workload. What with all your college essays, it’s easy to forget things.”

Oh. _Oh_.

Of all the people to orchestrate his downfall: his own mother? Evan was speechless. Which didn’t make a change from most situations, but this was different. “You posted…”

“Was I not supposed to?” Said Heidi, her smile fading slightly.

But Evan didn’t reply: instead, he pushed past her to the bathroom and vomited in the sink. For the third time that day.

*

_12:40am_

**Insanleycooljk** : are you awake?

 **Acornhansen:** Yes.

 **Insanleycooljk** : do you wanna talk about the letter?

 **Acornhansen** : Do I have a choice?

 **Insanleycooljk** : glad you asked. no.

 **Insanleycooljk** : how long hv you known you were bi

 **Acornhansen** : How long have you not known that you’ve spelt “insanely” wrong in your username?

 **Insanleycooljk** : enough of the cheek, young man

_**Insanelycooljk** has changed his username._

**Insanelycooljk** : you havent answered my question

 **Acornhansen** : I’ve known since Freshman year. Why are you asking?

 **Insanelycooljk** : oh no reason

 **Insanelycooljk** : its just i think your lying

 **Acornhansen** : Why would I lie about that, Jared?

 **Insanelycooljk** : because you want attention

 **Acornhansen** : There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted less. Please stop messaging me.

 _1_ : _56am_

 **Insanelycooljk** : i know your still online i can tell from the little green dot next to your username

 **Insanelycooljk** : and i still dont believe you

 **Insanelycooljk** : so prove it

 **Acornhansen** : How am I supposed to do that?

 **Insanelycooljk** : get a boyfriend you dumb prock

 **Insanelycooljk** : *prick

 **Insanelycooljk** : or i’ll post your little letter on the world wide web

_**Acornhansen** has logged out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one! 1 kudos = one prayer for Evan Hansen.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment if you really enjoyed it!


	5. The Fake Dating Ten Commandments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s suggestive of more,” said Connor reasonably. “Also, it’s like the opening scene of Sixteen Candles.”
> 
> “Sixteen Candles?”
> 
> “What - you haven’t watched that movie?”
> 
> Evan didn’t reply, and that was less because he was nervous and more because he was trying not to laugh.
> 
> “Whatever.” Connor hid the paper from view and began writing another rule. “It’s art.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get a little more complicated for Evan.

There was an oak tree standing on the edge of the football field, and it was probably the most remote spot in school Evan could find. The tree was at least four hundred years old, Evan’s educated guess, and it twisted outwards like hands that would hide him. Plus, there was an old picnic bench underneath it, making it the perfect place to eat lunch without being disturbed.

Evan closed his eyes as he lifted his face to the sun. The shouts of school kids were far away, and so were his thoughts. They were free.

“I _knew_ I’d find you here.”

Evan opened his eyes and turned round clumsily, losing his footing on the ground. He would have fallen flat if Connor hadn’t grabbed his arm at the last minute and steadied him.

“H-how did you…?” Connor had appeared out of _nowhere_. And his hand was still firmly on Evan’s arm. He shook it off, ignoring the hurt look on Connor’s face which he was sure was a joke.

Connor sat down comfortably on the picnic bench: a comical sight, considering his legs were so long they barely fit under the table. He made it look like a toy bench. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, after a lengthy pause.

Which, for Evan, didn’t bode well.

“Okay. Here’s the deal,” said Connor slowly, clearly choosing his words with care. “I think my sister has a crush on you. Like, whenever she’s delivered a pizza to our house she comes home gushing. It’s disgusting, really.”

Evan’s face coloured. But what, he thought, did this have to do with Connor inevitably destroying his life?

“And I know that you like me, if that letter’s anything to go by,” Connor continued, the glint in his eye less a result of the sun and more a symptom of plotting. “So I was _thinking_ that if we made it look like we were dating for a while, it would piss her off enough to make her give me what I want.”

“What...do you want?”

“Oh,” he waved a hand dismissively. “I want her to stop ratting me out to out parents about my smoking habits. If she thought I was dating you, I could just tell her to stop, because I could threaten to tell you awful shit about her.”

Evan felt strangely calm - it was as if he had literally no other option. So he took his packed lunch out of his bag impassively and said, “I need a moment to think about what you just said.”

Connor smirked. “Okay.”

After a few minutes, in which Evan ate his lunch slowly and Connor watched him, it was Evan who finally spoke up. “You w-want me to pretend we’re...dating.”

“Yep.”

“To make your - your sister jealous.”

Connor’s smirk was even wider now. “Yep.”

Evan frowned again, deep in thought. He didn’t know if his brain had decided to take a holiday, but a part of him wondered whether this deal was as awful as Connor would have him believe. Because - though Evan would never tell him this - there wasn’t just something in it for Connor. There was something in it for Evan as well.

Evan thought back to the conversation he’d had with Jared last night. Jared had said that he didn’t believe Evan was bisexual. He’d said that, unless Evan could _prove it_ , he’d post the letter online.

He cast a glance over at Connor, who was absentmindedly picking the black polish off his nails. Little did he know that Evan had his motives too.

Connor would be his boyfriend. His _fake_ boyfriend, true, but as long as Jared was none the wiser, Evan would be safe from anything Jared could do to him. “I’ll do it.”

Connor looked up from his nails with an expression Evan could only describe as astonished. Evan had never seen real emotion on Connor before - it looked good on him. “Really?”

“Y-yeah.” Evan still wasn’t sure of anything, but he wasn’t going to give that away to Connor. That would only give Connor more power over him. “But...no kissing. Or touching. Or - “

“Woah, hold on. I’ve got my own conditions too, you know.” Connor’s grin was sharp, dangerous, like a slash in his face. “We’ll have to draw up some rules. Do you have any paper?”

Evan nodded, taking out his notepad and ripping out a fresh page. Connor snatched it from Evan’s grasp, taking a pen out from behind his ear and writing in big, loopy handwriting:

_The Fake Dating Ten Commandments_

“Are you - are you serious?” Evan spluttered.

Connor shot him a Look. “Deadly.”

“O-okay. Then…” Evan tentatively took his own pen from his pocket and leaned over Connor to write down the first rule.

_1\. No kissing._

Connor furrowed his brow at this. “That defeats the object. How are people supposed to know we’re dating if we never kiss?”

Evan didn’t want Connor to know that he’d never kissed a boy before. And he definitely didn’t want Connor to know that the reason he didn’t want to kiss him was because he wanted his firsts to be special, and this...wasn’t. Call Evan a romantic, but he knew where he stood. He also knew that he didn’t want his _real_ feelings for Connor to get in the way of his fake ones.

“Th-there are...other ways,” Evan reasoned cautiously. He noticed that Connor had positioned himself unnecessarily close to him so that he could see the paper, and that he smelled faintly of soap, with a hint of cigarettes mixed in. “Such as…” he grasped at another possibility. “Holding hands.”

“Fine,” Connor shrugged. “We can hold hands in public. And…” He scrawled down something else.

_2\. Connor can put his hand in Evan’s back pocket whenever he wants._

“My back pocket?” Evan subconsciously hooked a finger round the hem of his jeans at the thought of Connor’s hand being anywhere near there.

“It’s suggestive of more,” said Connor reasonably. “Also, it’s like the opening scene of _Sixteen Candles_.”

“ _Sixteen Candles_?”

“What - you haven’t watched that movie?”

Evan didn’t reply, and that was less because he was nervous and more because he was trying not to laugh.

“Whatever.” Connor hid the paper from view and began writing another rule. “It’s art.”

 _3\. Evan has to watch_ Sixteen Candles _with Connor._

“Are you - are you serious?”

“I think we’ve already established, Evan, that I’m deadly serious. Now,” Connor put down the pen with a fake flourish. “Anything you’d like to add?”

“Oh, um…” Evan picked up his pen and chewed the end of it, thinking. Then he added:

_4\. No one must know that this relationship is fake._

“Duh,” said Connor. “Can you imagine how embarrassing that would be for both of us?” As he took up his own pen and began to write another one, Evan couldn’t help but notice that a stray strand of hair had fallen loose from his bun and was waving in front of his eyes. No sooner had he noticed than Connor brushed it aside carelessly and tucked it behind his ear. “Here,” he pushed the paper back towards Evan.

_5\. Connor can write Evan love letters._

Evan had to read it twice for the words to make sense. Did Connor mean it? Or was he mocking Evan’s letter, the mistake that had landed him in this situation in the first place?

It turned out that neither of these things was Connor’s motive. “It’ll really annoy my sister,” he said instead. “Especially ‘cause she got your letter saying that you had a crush on her once. What was it: _you were my first crush, and you'll always hold that place_?”

“You - you read her letter?” Could this have been any more painful than it already was?

“Of course I did,” Connor deadpanned. “And if she sees that I’m writing you letters, she’ll get so mad. This is _perfect_.”

Evan frowned, the certainty he’d had a few minutes earlier dissipating slightly. But, aside from the uncertainty, a new plan began to form in his mind: why couldn’t he take advantage of the situation in exactly the way Connor was doing? Thus his next rule was:

_6\. Connor must drive Evan home from school every evening._

Evan’s logic ran like this: the route home from school went straight past Jared’s house, where he could clearly see the road. If that wasn’t a subtle dig that Evan didn’t need him anymore, he didn’t know what was.

Connor scoffed. “ _Every_ evening? But don’t you have, like, extracurriculars and stuff?” He turned up his nose as the mention of _extracurriculars_. “I’ll have to stay late, waiting for you.”

“It’s non-negotiable.” Said Evan in the quietest voice he could. So what if it inconvenienced Connor? Just as Connor wanted to rub this fake relationship in Zoe’s face, Evan needed to rub it in Jared’s face. Otherwise there’d be nothing in it for Evan.

Connor seemed to be looking at him with new eyes, in equal parts astonished and impressed. “Fine. My turn.”

_7\. Evan must get high with Connor at least once._

“Don’t start hyperventilating on me! I never said you had to get as high as _I_ do, just a _little_ bit.”

Evan gritted his teeth and focused on the sound of the wind through the leaves of the tree above him. He tried to coordinate the rhythm of his breaths with the swaying of the branches.

It wasn’t working.

He shakily took up his pen, hoping his handwriting would be somewhat legible, and wrote:

_8\. Connor must volunteer at the park with Evan at least once a week._

Connor’s scowl was thunderous. “You what?”

 _It’s not as if you have much else to do, apart from getting high and hurting people._ Except Evan didn’t dare say that, for fear that Connor would finally carry out yesterday’s threat on punching him. Instead, he simply said, “It’s not too difficult. I can teach you how to tell if a tree is - “

“Okay, whatever, I’ll _do it_.” Connor grimaced.

Evan stifled a laugh for the second time. “Are - are you...sulking?”

“I am absolutely not sulking. How dare you accuse me of such a thing.” Connor said stonily, indicating that the subject was closed. “Now, what’s the next rule?”

“Maybe...how long we’re planning to do this?” Suggested Evan.

Connor nodded, businesslike. “Good point. Shall we say...until Spring break?”

Evan nodded. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? Besides, it wasn’t as if they were going to spend that much time together outside of that stated by the Fake Dating Ten Commandments.

_9\. We will ‘break up’ by Spring break._

“H-how are we going to break up?” Asked Evan.

“We’ll decide closer to the time.”

Evan took a look at the paper, with it’s combination of Connor’s loopy handwriting and Evan’s obscure scrawl. It was true, he reflected, what people said about a person’s personality being like their handwriting. Connor: overblown and slightly forged. Evan: small, not wanting to be noticed.

As Evan was lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed Connor begin to write another rule. The last rule. His body was positioned to completely hide the paper from Evan’s view, and the way his shoulders were hunched when he was writing suggested to him that Evan wouldn’t like this rule at all.

Eventually, Connor gave the paper to Evan to read. Slowly. The look on Connor’s face was borderline reproachful, as if even he knew that he might have gone too far. Evan read it with a forbidding feeling in his chest.

_10\. Evan must join Connor on his family ski trip._

At that moment, the bell went for class. They could hear it reverberate across the field. But Evan was frozen in his seat. “I - I can’t…”

“Think about it, Evan,” Connor leaned closer, his eyes glimmering. “It’s the ultimate step. They’ll have to believe us.”

There was nothing left for Evan to say. He was trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your great feedback so far! Keep letting me know what you're thinking of it.
> 
> Also! Updates may be a little sporadic from now on, as I have a lot on with applying to universities and such.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Shyberius


	6. Research, Babe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Enjoyed biology, babe?” Asked Connor.
> 
> “P-pet names weren’t in the Ten Commandments,” whispered Evan, his cheeks burning.
> 
> Connor shrugged. It was a full-bodied shrug, an I-stopped-caring-years-ago shrug. “A little improvisation never hurt anyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole fake dating business is going well, I guess.
> 
> (Warning for mentions of dangerous driving. And yes, it is Connor who's doing the dangerous driving, in case you were wondering.)

The next day was a dream. As in, Evan had had dreams similar to this so many times before, only to wake up with his heart beating frantically and the slightly sick feeling that it was never going to happen in real life.

But this dream was real in every sense of the word. It started in homeroom.

For one, Evan hadn’t even known that Connor was _in_ his homeroom, namely because he was either late or absent. But this time, he was early, an unfamiliar presence sitting in the back with his face covered by a sheet of dark hair. Evan wasn’t sure whether he should go and sit next to him, whether Connor would just brush him off as if yesterday had never happened.

But, inexplicably, Connor looked up and waved him over. Evan took his seat gingerly next to him.

“Day one, huh?” Said Connor. “How does it feel to be dating me?”

Evan was spared the obligation to answer as the teacher arrived, beginning the register. Though he couldn’t see him, he could feel Connor’s cool gaze slide over him, as if he were somehow sizing him up for the challenge. Evan wondered what the hallmarks were for a fake boyfriend, and whether he’d make a good one.

Naturally, the majority of the class turned to gape at Connor as his name was called out and he replied with a surly “present.” Of course he was going to attract attention: he was the Alleged School Psychopath, Famed Thrower of Printers, etc., etc., but what made this time different was that he was now accompanied by the School Tree Hugger. Evan could already imagine the questions building up inside each of their heads.

As soon as they were dismissed, Connor leaped out of his seat with uncharacteristic enthusiasm and gestured for Evan to do the same. “C’mon,” he hissed at Evan, “they have to see us walk to class.”

Evan dutifully got out of his seat with his head down and joined Connor’s side walking out into the corridor. All he could think about was the unwelcome stares he was getting, until his attention was grabbed by a foreign sensation on his back. Specifically, the back of his jeans.

“Wh-what are you doing?” He murmured, so that only Connor could hear.

Evan didn’t need to look at him to be able to tell that he was smirking. “Rule number two, remember?”

He recalled the rule from memory:

_2) Connor can put his hand in Evan’s back pocket whenever he wants._

Oh. How. Wonderful. “Do you... _have_ to do it? Here?”

As if in response, Connor dug his hand further down into Evan’s back pocket until he was practically caressing his backside, for goodness’ sake.

Evan wished Spring break - as in, the ‘break up’ - would come sooner, if only that meant that his back pocket would once more be safe. He breathed a silent sigh of relief as he and Connor parted to go to different classes.

Evan passed a blissful biology lesson in the peace that always followed Connor’s absence. Which was why he was dismayed to find that, in his next class, a familiar smirking face patted the seat next to him to sit down.

“Enjoyed biology, babe?” Asked Connor.

“P-pet names weren’t in the Ten Commandments,” whispered Evan, his cheeks burning.

Connor shrugged. It was a full-bodied shrug, an I-stopped-caring-years-ago shrug. “A little improvisation never hurt anyone.”

A thought suddenly struck Evan. An unsettling one. “How did you know I had biology?”

The answer was even more unsettling. “Research, babe.”

One thing could be said about Evan Hansen, and that was that he was peace-loving, without the slightest inclination towards violence. But if Connor addressed him as _babe_ one more time, there might have been a very different story to tell.

*

This was scarier than anything Evan had done. Scarier than that rollercoaster at Six Flags that turned you upside-down, scarier than crowds and falling in dreams and having to talk to strangers.

Connor slammed on the brakes (“Stupid fucking van. I had right of way”), then accelerated without warning, veering to the left suddenly and nearly scraping his tyres on the curb.

“Could you…” Evan’s breathing was all over the place. So was the contents of his school bag, which had been spilled all over the backseat as a result of a particularly reckless turning. “P-please...go a bit slower…”

Connor answered with a sharp swerve to the right, resulting in Evan’s life practically flashing before his eyes. “Did you want to be stuck behind that stupid fucking van? Some people don’t know how to drive. Honestly.”

Evan was going to point out that Connor was one of those people, but didn’t, mainly because his life was in Connor’s hands at the moment. Connor’s levels of road rage were comparable to an eleven on the Richter scale.

After what felt like a combination of seconds and hours, the car screamed to a halt outside Evan’s house. Evan nearly fell over himself to scramble out of the car before Connor tipped it over or something. “Th-thanks?” he said, which was less of a thanks to Connor for driving him home and more of a thanks to the car safety gods for preventing his grisly death.

Connor just stared straight ahead. “Any time. See you tomorrow.”

As if this arrangement was the most normal thing in the world.

*

_6:30pm_

**Insanelycooljk** : explain

 **Acornhansen** : Explain...what?

 **Insanelycooljk** : you and the school psychopath. in a car. together.

 **Insanelycooljk** : any explanations, or was i hallucinating?

 **Insanelycooljk** : speaking of hallucinating, remember that time i swapped your meds lmao

 **Insanelycooljk** : cmon it was funny

 **Acornhansen** : No, you weren’t hallucinating. Connor was driving me home from school.

 **Insanelycooljk** : oh, so ur on first name terms now?

 **Acornhansen** : As a matter of fact, we are.

 **Insanelycooljk** : did he kidnap you?

 **Insanelycooljk** : cos like, if he did, i can call childhelp or some shit

 **Acornhansen** : Don’t. It was my idea in the first place.

_7:55pm_

**Insanelycooljk** : but seriously

 **Insanelycooljk** : it that literally all or

 **Acornhansen** : If you really want to know, we’re seeing each other. And don’t bother putting it online, because it’s not a secret.

 **Insanelycooljk** : are you

 **Insanelycooljk** : what

 **Acornhansen** : Why are you so surprised? He’s nice if you get to know him. Not that it’s any of your business.

*

Evan shut the laptop and buried his face in his hands. Not because he was ashamed, but because he was shocked at himself. He’d never been like this to Jared. Ever. It was always been like this: Jared was the one to bring Evan down, and Evan was the one to grab at his coattails.

Saying things like this to Jared was weird, for sure. Unnatural, certainly. But it made Evan feel strangely powerful.

He could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 kudos = 1 disapproval of Connor's road rage
> 
> Also comments make me very happy thanks


	7. A Tight-Knit Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aren’t you supposed to let your guest sit down first?” Zoe said pointedly.
> 
> “He’s not my guest,” quipped Connor, smiling lazily. “He’s my boyfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points if you know the musical reference in the title.

Evan knew that the Murphys were rich - Connor’s fashion taste may have been tragic, but anyone could tell it was expensive - but he still wasn’t prepared for stepping into his house for the first time. He was even less prepared for his mom (Cindy? Cynthia? He’d forgotten already) appearing out of nowhere and enveloping him in a gargantuan hug which reeked of cloying perfume.

“Mom, you’re suffocating him. Let him go,” said Connor, laughter in his voice.

The smell of perfume went away before Evan even had time to react. A simple handshake would have been fine.

“Hi, Evan!” Connor’s mom - _Cynthia_ was her name, which made sense since it had the most suburban-mom feel to it - beamed. “It _is_ Evan, right?”

“Yeah. Definitely,” said Evan, as if he weren’t too sure himself what his name was.

“We’re going to my room now,” said Connor with finality, indicating that Cynthia wasn’t meant to follow.

“Okay, sweetie.” She reached out to ruffle Connor’s hair, but he ducked out of the way artfully. Then, when her face began to fall, Connor just stood up straight and grudgingly let her ruffle his hair, as if he knew it would make her happy.

Evan glanced briefly between the two of them - he couldn’t work out if Connor loved his mom or hated her, but the relationship was obviously more complex than it seemed. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind. _Fake boyfriends don’t probe into their fake boyfriend’s family life._

With his hair significantly ruffled, Connor headed up the staircase (which was wide enough for four people to walk up it side-by-side), gesturing for Evan to follow. As they made their way upwards, Cynthia called up, “Call down if you want snacks!”

Definitely suburban mom.

The upstairs landing was expansive and lavender-scented. There were five doors: three were silent, one had the soft sound of ukulele music filtering from underneath, and one Connor opened, letting Evan in before him.

Connor’ room was...surprisingly empty. Evan had always imagined someone’s room as being a reflection of the inside of their mind, and he’d imagined Connor’s mind as anything but empty. But apparently, if his room was anything to go by, his mind was sparsely furnished and had just a few peeling band posters tacked to the walls. Evan also noticed a battered copy of _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_ lying on the desk.

Evan had barely opened his mouth to speak (as if he had anything to say) when Connor flopped down on his bed and snapped open a laptop, patting the spot beside him, presumably for Evan.

He sat on the bed gingerly, taking pains not to bump elbows. God forbid if it ever got weird on Evan’s watch. “What are we…?”

Connor looked across at him seriously, like he was on some kind of mission which required a laptop and no snacks from Cynthia. “Rule number three.”

Connor, it turned out, was taking this whole operation very seriously. He got up _Sixteen Candles_ (or, as Connor reviewed it, “a masterful portrayal of American adolescence”) on his laptop and angled it so that both of them could see the screen.

Evan was just grateful for a fake date that didn’t involve eye contact and small talk.

*

Zoe was the only recipient of the letters whom Evan hadn’t seen yet. She didn’t bring it up at the dinner table, but he could see in the way she glanced over at him one too many times that it was on her mind. That she’d want to talk about it at some point. She’d probably have a few things to say about the fact that he was _dating her brother_ , as a minor point. Evan could practically feel her questions scorching the air between them.

They were sat like this: Connor’s dad at the head of the table, Cynthia next to him, then Zoe, then Connor, then Evan. Which meant that Evan was between Connor and his dad, a position he’d more accurately describe as domestic No Man’s Land.

In short, it turned out that the affection Connor had showed for his mother earlier were certainly not reciprocated for his father. And the feeling, as far as Evan could tell, was mutual.

“So…” Connor’s dad chewed on his food painstakingly slowly. “You two met in school?”

Connor nodded wordlessly.

“That’s funny.” He took another slow bite. “Funny that you should be in school enough to make friends.”

Connor’s voice was practically acidic. “So of the list of things I can’t do, you decide making friends is one of them. Thank you for the support, Larry.”

Larry looked down at his plate, his eyebrows knitted together as if this were a replay of the same conversation they had every evening. “I’m just surprised that you’re committed to something. That’s all.”

Except it clearly wasn’t intended as a compliment, and Connor didn’t take it as such. “Can you spend one single meal pretending that you don’t want to throw me out onto the street? _One_.”

“This chicken is nice, mom,” interjected Zoe smartly. She gave Evan a little encouraging smile from her seat across from him.

“Yeah, it’s - it’s delicious. My m-mom hasn’t cooked for years,” said Evan lightly, hoping in vain that this would lift the tension.

But what was intended as a mildly funny remark set Cynthia off exclaiming, “You don’t eat? That’s awful!”

Evan floundered for something to say that cancelled out the last thing he’d just said. To his surprise, it was Connor, seemingly recovered from his argument with Larry, who came to his rescue. “Evan cooks. He doesn’t _starve_ , mom.” Which wasn’t true, and Zoe knew it, given she delivered the Hansens’ pizza at least biweekly.

Cynthia visibly deflated. “Oh, thank goodness. Even so, Evan, you must come round for supper whenever you like.”

“Th-thank you.”

There was a brief lull in the tension. Evan peeled the skin off his fingers under the table while everyone else pushed bits of food round their plates.

Connor abruptly pushed away his plate and announced that “Evan and I are getting down now.”

“So am I,” added Zoe, earning a glare from her brother which could be translated into _that wasn’t the point_.

Without another word from Cynthia or Larry, the three of them left the table, led by Connor. Only once they were in the living room, and thus safely out of earshot, did Zoe speak. “Sorry about him, Evan.”

“Oh, no, it’s - it’s no problem, I - “

“Not _your_ problem. Larry’s just a twat.” Said Connor helpfully.

Zoe smirked in a way that was disturbingly similar to Connor. “When I said _him_ , I meant you.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “Why are you even in here with us? Evan and I want some quality time.”

“Is three hours watching _Sixteen Candles_ not enough?”

“It’s two hours and forty minutes. Eavesdropper.”

Evan wondered if they always bickered like this. He’d already been the unhappy intermediary for Connor and Larry, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d hold out between the two siblings as well. “Shall we...sit down?”

Connor murmured an affirmative and threw himself down melodramatically into a loveseat, reclining his legs over it so that there was no room for anyone else.

“Aren’t you supposed to let your guest sit down first?” Zoe said pointedly.

“He’s not my guest,” quipped Connor, smiling lazily. “He’s my boyfriend.”

And there it was. _Boyfriend_. The word that Evan had anticipated but wasn’t quite prepared to leave Connor’s mouth. Much less in front of Zoe.

Zoe, however, seemed marginally unfazed, as if Evan were one of Connor’s hobbies. “What did you do to persuade him?” As if Evan wasn’t standing right there.

To his surprise, Connor calmly rattled off a completely false story about how they’d met in calculus and ended up sitting together at lunch, from which an unlikely romance blossomed (Connor’s words, not Evan’s). Evan wondered if he’d just come up with it on the spot, or if he’d planned for this eventuality.

Either way, it was damn convincing.

Zoe received this information with veiled interest, then turned to Evan. “Is this true?”

Evan briefly caught Connor’s eye. “Yes.”

“So how long have I been delivering pizzas to my brother’s boyfriend without knowing, huh?” She turned accusingly to Connor as she said this.

“We were taking it slow,” Connor replied smoothly.

“Hm. Well. Enjoy your quality time,” Zoe shot to Connor. “Oh, and Evan,” with this, she addressed Evan with a smile, “it was nice to have you round. If my brother tries to sell your soul to the devil or some shit, just tell me and I’ll sort him out.”

Evan waved shyly and Connor flipped her off as she left.

As soon as the door slid shut, Connor remarked, “Zoe’s sufficiently pissed, the parents are sufficiently convinced, and you now know that _Sixteen Candles_ is art.” He got up and playfully punched Evan in the arm. “Not bad for one evening’s work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Also, please comment, I crave


	8. Baked Like a Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were home now. At least, that was what Evan thought, because time was going very fast and home wasn’t far away. And his front door was right there, the one with the broken knocker and scratched paint.
> 
> And he was kissing Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind comments! This is a short chapter, but it's gearing up to something big.

Evan felt...light. Oddly light. Like he wouldn’t even know his limbs were there if he didn’t look down to check.

And dizzy. He felt really, really, dizzy. But it wasn’t a bad kind of dizzy, more like the rush of adrenaline you get when you’re on a rollercoaster, except this time it didn’t stop moving. Never stopped moving.

“Steady there, Hansen. Oh, fuck, you really are baked, aren’t you?”

Evan nodded mildly. “Baked. Like a cake. Haha.”

Someone’s arm was draped around his shoulders, nudging and guiding him. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

Where were they? There weren’t any trees, thought Evan, his heart sinking. But at least there were Connors. Two of them. Double vision.

Connor - just one Connor, although Evan was still seeing double - shouldered his bag and held out a hand to him. Two hands. Three. Evan couldn’t count. “C’mon. I’ll walk you home, then you can sleep it off. And don’t let your mom see you like this.”

“Okay.” Evan aimed for Connor’s hand and missed, snagging the frayed edge of his sweater sleeve instead. He tugged on it happily, letting Connor lead him out of wherever they were.

“How do you feel?” Connor asked, as they took a turn that made Evan’s head hurt.

“Light.”

Evan thought Connor was going to smirk like he usually did, but instead his face was worried and a bit motherly. As if Evan had been his thing to look after, and he had failed. “You’ll be alright. Let’s just get you home.”

“Okay.”

They were home now. At least, that was what Evan thought, because time was going very fast and home wasn’t far away. And his front door was right there, the one with the broken knocker and scratched paint.

And he was kissing Connor.

Evan wasn’t sure how that happened. How they’d gone from walking to kissing, how time was so fast. How Connor’s lips were chapped and rough and tasted exactly like the thing Evan tasted of. He vaguely remembered Connor asking, and he vaguely remembered saying yes and having his hands tangled in Connor’s hair.

Then suddenly they weren’t kissing anymore, and Evan let out a small displeased noise at this new development. Because he’d really enjoyed the kissing part. But all he could feel now was the soft pad of the carpet underneath his bare feet (where had his shoes gone? He didn’t know) and Connor’s sleeve still clutched in his hand.

*

Evan woke up in the same clothes he’d been in the night before, lying the the wrong way up in his bed with his head throbbing like hell. Pain was literally pounding back and forth in his skull. As soon as he’d gathered his thoughts and memories, and arranged them into a pattern than made chronological sense, the full realisation of what he’d done dawned on him and he buried his face in the mattress, groaning.

What happened last night involved him, Connor, a roll of marijuana and a whole lot of regret.

He rolled over sluggishly, adjusting his position until the alarm clock was in the corner of his vision. Monday, 8am.

 _Monday_.

The force of Evan’s panic practically propelled him out of bed and all the way downstairs to the front, still in his rumpled polo shirt and chinos from the night before, but grateful that he didn’t have much outfit variation anyway, so no one would notice that the clothes were unwashed. He smoothed down his shirt in an inane attempt to look decent, before realising that he wasn’t trying to impress anyone. Not anymore; not now that he was fake dating Connor Murphy, and all his other crushes had received his awful love letters and declared his love unrequited.

Maybe, if he walked a little faster instead of thinking about the letters again, Evan would get to school on time. And just maybe, he’d be able to keep his head down for most of the day and ignore the fact that he, Evan Hansen, probably still had dangerous toxins in his system. How long did it take for drugs to wear off, anyway?

Except Evan’s wish of going unnoticed was being laughed at by the Gods of Social Visibility (not that Evan was going polytheist, or anything). Because the first face he saw when he walked past the school gates belonged to none other than Zoe Murphy, a.k.a. the Murphy sibling he was _not_ fake dating.

Zoe had her saxophone case in one hand and a half-eaten granola bar in the other. She also looked very beautiful and ever-so-slightly pissed off. “Evan, hey. Can we talk sometime today?”

“Um...” Evan stopped in his tracks, allowing a few juniors to push past and yell at him for holding them up. “Sure.”

“The library, then?” She said decisively. As if there weren’t another option. “Lunch?”

“Sure,” Evan repeated robotically.

With that, she nodded unsmilingly and strode away, looking every inch the girl boss with her saxophone case in tow like some kind of jazzy weapon. Evan wondered if the talk was going to be about her brother. _Knew_. Was she pissed that they were dating? Because, if that was the case, then Connor had succeeded in his goal. And if that was the case, then surely that would mean _mission accomplished_ , and no need to sustain the lie.

Except Evan wasn’t sure he wanted to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't go wrong with kissing and weed. Only don't do the latter.
> 
> Also, the title is taken from a line in 'The Perks of Being a Wallflower' when Charlie accidentally eats weed brownies.


	9. In the Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let’s get straight to the point - “ Zoe began.
> 
> “Not straight. If Evan was straight, we wouldn’t be having this conversation and I wouldn’t be missing out on hot pizza.” Jared added.

Every second measured on the lopsided classroom clock felt like a second closer to Evan’s doom. Zoe was probably going to strangle him behind the library bookshelves or something, and the janitor wouldn’t find his body until their weekly shift. His mom had always told him not to trust strangers.

Not that Zoe was a stranger. But she _was_ his fake boyfriend’s sister, and that was the same thing in terms of potential danger.

He just couldn’t shake that pissed-off look on her face. The way her freckles twisted up into a frown when she looked him in the eye.

The lesson ended, and Evan was the last one out of the room for sheer unwillingness to face the lunch ahead of him. He knew this fake dating thing had been a bad idea. Now it was finally backfiring on him, and somehow Zoe’s disapproval was worse than all the whispers that collected around him whenever Connor put his hand in his back pocket in public. Because, with Zoe, it actually felt personal.

By the time he’d got to the library, he’d run through his head every possible way that this could go. He was prepared for anything, he thought. The only eventuality he _hadn’t_ anticipated was for Zoe to be joined by Jared Kleinman.

The two of them were sat in beanbags in between two bookshelves, next to an empty one Evan presumed was for him. “He’s arrived for his interrogation,” said Jared jokingly, pushing his glasses onto the end of his nose to mimic a judge.

Except Evan wasn’t smiling. “H-hi?”

“Hi, Evan.” Zoe gestured to the empty beanbag. “Sit down.”

Evan tentatively sat down, wondering how he’d sunk so low as to be interrogated on a beanbag.

“Let’s get straight to the point - “ Zoe began.

“Not _straight_. If Evan was straight, we wouldn’t be having this conversation and I wouldn’t be missing out on hot pizza.” Jared added.

Zoe shot him a withering glare. “As I was saying. We’re here to talk about Evan and Connor.” She turned to Evan. “So, it’s true that you’re dating?”

Evan gave a small, pathetic shrug. “Yes.”

“We guessed that. Now, I have a few questions,” Zoe wore a determined expression that made Evan think she had a whole list of questions in her head in order of priority. But instead of a complicated, long-winded question, all she said was, “Why?”

And Evan’s mind was wiped blank. What was the cover story Connor had told Zoe after dinner? Something about them having met in calculus, which was pretty foolproof, considering they did have calculus together. “Wh-what do you…”

“She _means_ ,” chipped in Jared, “Why are you bedding a psychopath? I thought you’d have had a panic attack just looking at him.”

“He’s _not a psychopath_ \- “

“I-I wouldn’t have a panic attack!”

“Okay, okay,” Jared retreated into his beanbag. “Both of you, calm down. Evan, explain.”

Evan swallowed loudly. He _would_ stick to the cover story, if only because Connor would kill him if he blew their cover. “We-we met in calculus. And he’s...nice.” _Great choice of words, Evan. Nice._ “We just get on well. I-I can’t explain why we do.”

“And what have you done together?” Shot Zoe.

Evan nearly flinched at the forwardness of her question. And of the memory of last night - the intoxicated kiss - that was just dredging to the surface of mind. “We-we kissed. Once. That-that’s it. There’s totally nothing else we would, I mean - “

“We get it, Evan.” Jared was trying not to laugh at him outright. “Chill.”

Zoe nodded, seemingly satisfied with Evan’s answers so far. Which really wasn’t comforting to Evan, because there were surely more horrible questions waiting to trip him up. Expose his lies. “And do you...know what he’s like?” She paused. Evan could see memories stirring behind her face, and they weren’t happy ones. “He’s...volatile. Just don’t believe him when he says he loves you.”

The three of them sat silent; even Jared couldn’t come up with a snarky comment to lighten the atmosphere. Eventually it was Zoe who broke the awkwardness by pulling a sandwich out of her backpack. Her voice was soft. “Don’t act so shocked. Don’t pretend you haven’t heard the rumours.”

Evan had heard the rumours. And he’d believed them, until Connor had approached his table under the oak tree and drawn up the Fake Dating Ten Commandments. Because now that he actually knew Connor - at least, now that he’d spent time with him - the rumours didn’t line up with the boy he knew. The boy who thought _Sixteen_ _Candles_ was a cult classic. The boy whose legs were adorably too long for the rest of his body, and who walked Evan home to keep him safe. That boy wasn’t volatile. That boy wasn’t loveless.

Zoe finished her sandwich and stood up, briskly shouldering her backpack. “Well. I guess I’ve warned you. Also, Evan, don’t get yourself in trouble or anything. I like you, and I don’t want you to end up in prison or something.”

It was funny. Evan couldn’t tell if she wanted to be his friend or his enemy.

With that speech done, she left the library, shutting the door carefully behind her. Now it was just Jared and Evan, the empty beanbag where Zoe had been a canyon between them.

“We haven’t talked.” Said Jared suddenly. Was it just Evan, or did he sound...sad? “I mean, not since you started...dating him.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say _Connor_ , because the idea of Evan-and-Connor was still too absurd for him to fathom. The situation was still very much _who are you and what have you done with the Evan Hansen I know?_

Because the Evan Hansen _he_ knew - the boy who read tree encyclopedias in his spare time and corrected his spelling in his texts - wasn’t the sort of person to date Connor Murphy. The boy sitting in the beanbag now was like Evan, but distorted, like when you saw someone through a frosted window.

“Sorry.” Said Evan. And part of him meant it, but another part of him knew that if it had been the other way round, Jared wouldn’t have been sorry. He would have happily left him behind. “I’ve been...busy.”

“With him.”

“I...I guess. Yeah.”

Jared sighed. It was a hopeless sigh, Evan thought. “This is just so weird. You know, I thought it was a prank at first.”

“Oh.”

“‘Oh’?” Jared stood up without warning. Evan stumbled back, startled. “It that all you’re going to say? _Oh_?” His face was red. Jared - usually so blase, so laid-back - was almost shouting. “Is that how you feel about leaving behind your best friend? Is that all I am to you? _Oh_?”

“I’m your...best...friend?”

“YOU’RE MY ONLY FRIEND!” Jared’s face was scarlet now. Maybe it was streaked with tears as well, if only his face hadn't been thrown into shadow by the bookshelf. “WERE!”

Jared stormed out without another word.

The scary thing was that Evan wasn’t sure if he cared enough to go after him. The even scarier thing was how good he’d become at lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for the drama.


	10. The Captain, part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beat of silence. Connor spoke again, his voice wavering in the air. “So once a rule is broken, is it broken forever?”
> 
> “What do you mean?”
> 
> “I mean,” the familiar smirk returned to Connor’s lips, full and glorious, “can I kiss you again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanna yell a quick thank you for all of your reading and lovely comments! Thanks for sticking with me.

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

_I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul._

_Remember that? That was the poem you were writing an essay on, that poem you hated because you thought it was so pretentious and contrived. That was before all of this happened. Before the letters got out, and before you ended up in a fake relationship in which the line between reality and pretend gradually smudged. Smudged on the paper, blurred with your own thumb._

_Not the master of you fate now, are you? Certainly not the captain of your soul. On the contrary: you’re on a rollercoaster you can’t leave, and wherever it takes you, you’ll have to go with it. You have no control._

_Remember, the day you read that poem, what you wished for? A date to the prom. Someone to hold your hand. And you have that, now, in a funny, twisted way. He’s your date to the awkward family meal. The one who puts his hand in your back pocket (you love it. You pretend that you don’t, but you do, oh, you do)._

_It turns out that poetry is a lie, and you’re in too deep._

_Sincerely,_

_Me_

*

Connor’s hand was planted firmly where it usually was. Except today, he’d hazarded to go just a little further: his index finger hooked on the waistband of Evan’s jeans, tugging affectionately. “We broke rule number one. I can’t believe it.”

Evan leaned into his arm. Connor leaned closer in response, because he was permanently cold, and, damn it, Evan was warm-blooded. His mom always said he was like a human radiator. “It was...it was technically my fault. And the rule was my idea. So it’s okay.”

“Damn, Evan. I was the one who got you high in the first place, but okay.”

A beat of silence. Connor spoke again, his voice wavering in the air. “So once a rule is broken, is it broken forever?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” the familiar smirk returned to Connor’s lips, full and glorious, “can I kiss you again?”

*

Evan brought Connor home a few weeks later. It was strange seeing him in his room - like seeing a wolf being kept as a domestic pet, it was something being somewhere it didn’t belong. His dark hair stood out against the whitewashed wall; his head nearly brushed the ceiling. He picked up a battered copy of _The Secret Garden_ \- Evan’s favourite childhood book - off the bedside table, and his hands were so big next to it, so incongruous.

And Evan had never witnessed Connor being so _polite_ before. He hadn’t even known he was capable of it; he’d learned that the more Connor swore at you, the more he actually liked you. Swear words were his love language.

When Connor met Heidi, he was so polite, Evan had to look twice to check that it really was Connor who was speaking. “Hello, Miss Hansen,” he said, holding out a hand for her to shake. “How was your day?”

It worked a charm on her. “Oh, Connor - how nice to finally meet you! Evan’s told me all about you.”

(Evan had told her the bare minimum - he didn’t mind lying when he had to, but lying to his mother felt like some kind of treason.)

Connor beamed as the two of them launched into a conversation about the state of the healthcare system (how did Connor even _know_ about that sort of thing?), and Evan wondered if he had that smile specially reserved, ready to deploy for times like these.

Evan wondered how many times Connor had done this before. Whether he’d dated. Whether he’d fallen in love before, or whether everything he did was fake. Just elaborate acting.

*

“Do you have any idea how well this is going?” Connor leaned back against the wall of 7-Eleven, smiling lazily. Pleased with this. Pleased with himself. “Zoe’s pissed off enough to do whatever I want, and your friend Jared’s history. We’ve both got what we wanted.”

Evan focused on the jolting sound of the slushie machine as it pumped ‘Rainbow Punch’ out into an overpriced plastic cup. "I...I guess.”

Connor eyed Evan from behind his curtain of hair, failing to pick up on his discomfort. “Are you seriously drinking that?”

Evan stabbed the straw into the plastic lid. “...Yes?”

Connor shrugged, then proceeded to concoct himself a very complicated creation which involved at least seven different slushie flavours. “You do you. But you clearly haven’t mastered the art of iced beverages.”

*

It was at times like this that Evan was pretty sure - no, _certain_ \- that however fake their relationship may be, there were at least some feelings between him and Connor. There had to be something. There couldn’t not be.

They were in the library, at a desk tucked away in the corner and thus out of sight of the librarian. Evan was trying to write up some notes for a biology exam he had looming over his head the next day, but that was impossible when his fake boyfriend was poking his face to get his attention.

Evan sighed, pushing his book aside. “Fine,” he said. “How about you test me, then you won’t be so bored.”

Connor flashed him a shark-like grin, picking up the book and opening it on a random page. “There’s only one thing you need to know if you want to ace this exam,” he said in a faux-serious voice.

“And what’s that?” Evan leaned his head on his hand, smiling warily.

“Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

Evan hid his face in his hands to stifle his giggles, lest the librarian catch them.

“I bet you know it all anyway,” said Connor impatiently, sidling up to him and leaning on his arm. “So we should do something else.”

The laughter had disarmed Evan; now, he’d say yes to anything. That was why he didn’t move away when Connor dipped down and kissed his neck.

It could hardly have been called a kiss: it was more a brush of lips against skin, so soft it could have never happened. But Even knew that this was real, and, all thoughts of biology quickly forgotten, he whispered, “that’s nice.”

Connor laughed, his voice low. “Man of few words, you are.” Then he kissed him again, harder, on the tender spot of skin below his jaw. Evan let out a small gasp that he regretted.

A few minutes and more than a few kisses later, their moment was interrupted by the librarian. Evan had never been more embarrassed in his life, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be. Maybe because he was with Connor: somehow, everything was a little less painful, a little less overwhelming, when Connor was there.

*

But it wasn’t real. Evan had to remind himself over and over, pinching himself in the dark, repeating the mantra. It wasn’t real.

And what was it that Zoe had said? _Don’t pretend you haven’t heard the rumours._

_And just don’t believe him when he says he loves you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! What do you think?


	11. The Truth (Or, At Least, Some of It)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If your theory is that I did 9/11, you’re probably right,” said Connor with mock-seriousness.
> 
> “We already know you did 9/11,” Zoe deadpanned right back. The two of them may have been opposites in most things, but when it came to humor - black and macabre - they practically finished each other’s sentences. Embarrassingly so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who's been so lovely about this story! You know who you are. :)

What did one actually pack for a ski trip anyway? Or, more specifically: what did one pack for a ski trip with your fake boyfriend’s family?

Warm clothes. Obviously. Evan tossed his threadbare hat and scarf into the suitcase. The Murphys would probably be kitted out the latest ski gear, while Evan would trail behind with his second-hand North Face fleece that still had his dad’s name on the label (which Evan tried to forget about. He’d tried to wash it off, but it was scrawled on with permanent marker, thus it stayed).

As Evan packed his suitcase, he tried to fill his mind with calming thoughts. Thoughts which had nothing to do with his dad’s name on the label, or how he’d probably be really awkward around Zoe and end up saying something stupid (cue a part two of the Great Jazz Band Incident of 2017). Thoughts such as what Connor would look like in the snow: he’d probably have a red, shiny nose and snowflakes caught in his hair.

“Hey, sweetie.”

She never knocked. No matter how many times he’d asked her to, she always just walked in, and Evan always had to shut his laptop quickly enough for her not to see the screen but not so fast that she got suspicious. Only this time, instead of shutting his laptop, he shut his suitcase.

“What are you packing for?” Asked Heidi. She was just home from work, freshly changed into a ratty oversized sweater. That had probably belonged to Evan’s dad too. Why was he always being reminded of how dysfunctional their family was?

“Oh, um - a trip. With Connor? With his family, actually.”  _Rule number ten: Evan must join Connor on his family ski trip._

Heidi tilted her head to the side, the way she did when she thought she could read Evan’s mind. “A trip? With the Murphys?”

“Um. Yes?” Evan could have sworn he’d told her this. Could have sworn she’d said yes.

Unless that had been another conversation that he’d rehearsed in his head and had never actually happened. Because he did that a lot. Sometimes he’d make up a speech for the cashier at the grocery store (“Hello, how are you? Well, thank you. Can I have a bag with that?”), but when it was his turn in the queue, he opened his mouth and no sound came out. This was one of those moments. One of those times he’d got what he said in his head mixed up with reality.

“Evan,” said Heidi gently, “you never told me you were going away. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her voice was laced with hurt. Evan couldn’t do this.

His hands were shaking as he fumbled with the suitcase zip, trying to get it closed. “I - I thought I’d t-told you.” The zip was jammed. “I thought we’d - we’d talked, and you said I could go, and now I’m - I’m packing my - “

“Evan. Calm down,” Heidi touched her hands together nervously. “I’m not mad at you, I just need you to tell me these things. You know that, right?”

“Yes.” Evan sat down on the suitcase, a sudden onslaught of dizziness washing over him. He hated how small he sounded. “I’m sorry.”

He felt the suitcase creak as Heidi sat down beside him. He breathed in her smell without meaning to: lavender and must. Home. Not Snow Creek, Weston, where he’d be attempting to ski in a few days time. With a family that were practically strangers.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Evan?” Her voice was soft.

“I - I was nervous about it. _Am_.” Evan wrung his hands together, and realised that he and his mom had the same nervous habit. It comforted him a little. “I thought that if I told you, it would seem more real. More...scary.”

“But Connor’s your boyfriend.” Pride crept into her voice. Her son, finally engaging with his peers. Her son, proud of who he was. “So there’s nothing to be worried about, is there?”

Evan’s hands began to shake again. Every lie he’d told since the letters had been sent out were built up inside him, ready to explode and scatter. When he thought about it, those letters were the truest words he’d used in a long time.

 _No more lying,_ he said to himself. _No more._ That was when he broke rule number four  - _No one must know that this relationship is fake -_ and whispered a silent apology to Connor. “He’s not my boyfriend. We lied. Both of us.”

*

Zoe didn’t knock when she came in, and Connor was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice when she sat on the edge of his bed. For a moment, she just watched him - watched as his messy hair formed a kind of halo around his head and his shoulders relaxed in the way they did when he thought no one was watching.

Then the spell broke, and he turned around. “Hey,” Connor frowned at her, like she was a puzzle he hadn’t encountered before. “What’re you doing here?”

“I, um, have a theory.” Zoe began. She was probably wrong; she didn’t even know why she was doing this. The only way this could end was with Connor angry and Cynthia breaking them up like the umpire in a boxing ring.

Only now, Connor just looked amused. Nonchalant, even: just sitting cross-legged on the floor with a book open on his lap. If Zoe peered over the bed, she'd be able to see that it was _The Secret Garden_.

“If your theory is that I did 9/11, you’re probably right,” he said with mock-seriousness.

“We already know you did 9/11,” she deadpanned right back. The two of them may have been opposites in most things, but when it came to humor - black and macabre - they practically finished each other’s sentences. Embarrassingly so.

“Go on, then. What’s the new idea?”

“It’s about you and Evan,” she said, watching his face carefully. Connor’s good humor might prove to be short-lived, and she didn’t want to find out the hard way. She had to be tactful. “And it’s about this.” She pulled out a small square envelope. On it was her name, printed clearly in Evan’s handwriting.

Connor squinted at the letter, recognition sparking in his eyes. “You got one too?”

“Yeah. About how he had a crush on me once, but doesn’t anymore.”

Connor’s face was expressionless. “Fair.”

Zoe took a deep breath, only it was more internal than anything. What she was going to say next was a shot in the dark, and she’d either miss miserably or hit the mark. There would be no in between - there never was when Connor was involved. “My theory is that you’re dating Evan for reasons other than romantic interest.”

Now she’d got his attention - she could tell from the way his eyebrows shot up at a million miles per hour. “Oh?”

“It’s got something to do with the letters. He wrote you one too, didn’t he?”

Connor’s eyebrows were still a centimeter higher on his head than was normal. “It there a right or a wrong answer?”

Zoe sighed. “My theory is that Evan sent out a whole bunch of letters. Not just to you and me.”

“Wait, so that means you have two theories,” Connor pointed out. Trust him to be a smartass in the most pressing of times.

“Fine. My _second_ theory, then.”

The book slid off Connor’s lap and onto the carpet, completely forgotten. “And what does your second theory have to do with me and Evan dating?”

It had been a long time coming for Zoe to reach her theory. There’d been a lot of guesswork, a lot of suspicious behaviour filed in her head as incriminating evidence. First, there was the undeniable fact everything Connor did had an ulterior motive. So when he announced out of the blue that he was dating his arch-opposite, the Notoriously Quiet and Nature-Obsessed Evan Hansen (and, no, the cover story that they’d met in calculus hadn’t convinced her), she knew off the bat that something was off. In fact, she was amazed that their parents had lapped up the story so readily. But she guessed that any sign of Connor ‘socially engaging’ was fine by them.

Then, there were the totally uncharacteristic things Connor would do for Evan on a daily basis. Zoe was sure that, no matter how much Connor liked someone (and he wouldn’t admit to liking anyone anyway), there were boundaries he’d never breach. But suddenly Connor was going round volunteering at the local park (he came home smelling more strongly of pine trees than Cynthia’s reed diffusers), driving Evan home from school every night like some kind of ritual (Connor despised routine and order), and even taking two cookies from the jar so that he could give one to Evan (acts of kindness from him were scarce).

Adding up all the evidence, Zoe had reached her conclusion. Her theory - researched, recorded, revised - was that Connor and Evan weren’t really dating. Her idea was that, as a fallout of the letters, Connor had seized the opportunity to use Evan’s feelings for him for his own ends. Because if Connor _knew_ that Evan liked him, as was apparent in the letter, then he’d know that he could exploit him. Just because he could.

“My theory is this…” And she told him everything she’d been thinking for the past few months. No lies. No sugar-coating.

*

Evan told her everything. Or, to describe it more accurately, the truth came out of him. Half because he wanted it to, and half because it _had_ to, otherwise the lies would eat at him and hollow him out.

He told her about the letters; how he’d never meant for them to be sent. He told her about the Fake Dating Ten Commandments, and how Connor was using their relationship to fool Zoe. But he also told her that it wasn’t him who was the victim - he’d wanted this too. He told her how he was using their relationship too - to finally have some power over Jared - and how that technically made him as bad a person as Connor.

What he didn’t tell her was that he wasn’t sure whether Connor’s feelings for him were real or fake anymore. Heidi couldn’t know that Evan had got himself tangled so tightly in his web of lies and affections that he couldn’t find a way out that wouldn’t get him hurt.

Once he'd told her everything he could, Evan slumped down on the suitcase, exhausted. But relieved. Because telling the truth was probably the most honourable thing he’d done since he'd agreed to date Connor.

Not that this mess was over yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have, as I like to say, taken a Turn.
> 
> Another thing: updates may be sporadic, as the Xmas season is crazy busy for me, but I'll try my best! Thanks for being patient.


	12. What Connor Did Next

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan’s smile was playful. “I was wondering when you were going to write me a love letter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Holidays are over and I'm back! I hope that everyone had a good holiday and has a wonderful new year.

Connor still had it: a ripped-out piece of Evan’s notepaper, carefully folded into eighths and stowed in his sweater pocket. Now he unfolded it slowly, running his fingers over the jagged edges. When he opened it fully, a dried oak leaf fell out, a reminder of the tree he’d found Evan sitting under that day. A reminder of the way the dappled sun had hit Evan’s face, drawing it in light.

The title was scrawled at the top in block capitals: _The Fake Dating Ten Commandments._ Connor almost laughed; the words felt stupid now, flimsy and worn. They didn’t mean anything to him, not now that this whole trick had escalated into something too big to call _fake_ . The word _fake,_ Connor thought, didn’t capture it. It didn’t do it justice.

He read it over again.

 _1) No kissing._ Ha.

 _2) Connor can put his hand in Evan’s back pocket whenever he wants._ He’d taken advantage of that rule quite nicely. He’d certainly made the most of it.

 _3) Evan has to watch_ Sixteen Candles _with Connor._ Again, a success. Even if it had preceded the inevitable awkward family dinner.

 _4) No one must know that this relationship is fake._ Double ha. Now Zoe knew. And, if Connor thought about it, Zoe had probably known from the start.

 _5) Connor can write Evan love letters._ That was a rule Connor hadn’t ticked off yet. Perhaps he would. It would be more writing than he’d done voluntarily since fifth grade, when they'd had to write an essay on what they did last Summer.

 _6) Connor must drive Evan home from school every evening._ Much to Evan’s displeasure. Connor could practically feel Evan’s fear hanging in the air whenever he took a rogue turn. Little did Evan know, though, that Connor actually toned down his road rage just for him.

 _7) Evan must get high with Connor at least once._ That had been the turning point. For Connor it had, at least. Because that was when it had stopped being fake to him, and instead of being a simple way to get something, it became more complicated than he’d ever bargained for.

 _8) Connor must volunteer at the park with Evan at least once a week._ Connor kept finding leaves in his hair. It should have annoyed him, but instead it just made him think of Evan (unless he was already thinking of Evan. In that case, he’d only think of him more).

 _9) We will ‘break up’ by Spring break._ But Connor didn’t want this to end.

 _10) Evan must join Connor on his family ski trip._ He wished. But that possibility seemed less and less likely when Connor considered what he was about to do next.

What Connor did next was this: he asked (as politely as he could, which meant he only used two swear words) Zoe if he could borrow some paper and a pen. Zoe knew everything now, and instead of being angry (which Connor would have been, if he was her. So angry), somehow she understood. In this way, Zoe had surprised him, and he felt a grudging respect for her.

“What are they for?” She’d asked, handing over a few sheets of paper and a ballpoint pen.

“This is going to sound crazy,” Connor began.

Zoe raised her eyebrows as if to say, _Try me._

“But I...actually like him,” he finished. “And I’m going to tell him, even if I embarrass myself.”

Zoe raised her eyebrows even higher. They’d done this when they were kids: communicated using facial expressions. They’d used it to talk at the dinner table, and Cynthia had got annoyed because she didn’t understand what was going on. Somehow, Connor felt like a kid again. Giddy. Actually believing that something good might happen.

“Especially if I embarrass myself.” He corrected.

Now, Connor sat down to write. His wrist hurt from holding the pen, scribbling out line after line, and his legs were stiff from sitting down for so long, but the letter was finished. If this whole mess had begun with a letter, then Connor was damned if he wasn't going to end it with one. With those three pesky words:

_Dear Evan Hansen._

Connor squinted at the words. Was _dear_ too formal? But, no: that was what Evan had written in his letter. The letter that was never meant to be sent.

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

_We’ve lied a lot, you and I, in the past few months. We’ve let everyone think that we’ve been dating, when really we’ve just been pretending to a set of rules._

_But here’s the thing: we haven’t been lying as much as you think we have. What I mean is,_ I _haven’t been lying as much as you think I have._

_Which doesn’t exactly make me a saint. But still._

_I’ve led you to believe that all I wanted was a fake relationship. That I’ve only been doing all of this - hanging out with you, meeting your mom, volunteering at the park - for my own ends. And, at the beginning, all that was true. But now? Not so much._

_Now, I have real feelings for you. I’m physically cringing as I write this, because I_ hate _feelings, but I don’t hate you. I don’t hate you at all. (You’ll know by now that from me, that’s a compliment.)_

_In fact, I don’t hate you to the extent that I think I might love you._

_Sincerely,_

_Me_

_P.S. Zoe knows. And I think we - you and me, I mean - need to talk about this face-to-face._

*

Evan’s smile was playful. “I was wondering when you were going to write me a love letter.”

And so it goes. Now, instead of Connor standing there with a letter in his hand, and Evan terrified, it was all the other way round. Connor would have found this funny, if it hadn’t been for the aforementioned terror he felt.

“And?” he said briskly, keen to get this over with. The rejection, that is.

“And I told my mom,” Evan replied, giving a small shrug. “I was packing for the ski trip, and...it just came out. The whole thing.”

On one hand, Connor was relieved. The less people they had to lie to, the better. “Well, I guess there are no secrets left now.”

“I...I guess not.”

The tension in the air deflated like a balloon. Was this _it?_ No fight; no confession of undying love; no kiss?

Connor watched too many TV dramas to have realistic expectations of how anything went. But he’d still expected something... _more_. More than this.

“I, um…” Evan rustled the letter in his hand. “I got your letter. Obviously, I mean - I’m holding it, so…”

“It’s okay if you don’t.” Connor blurted out, his face immediately going red. _Idiot_ , he chided himself. _You never blush._

“If I don’t...what?”

“If you don’t feel the way I do.” There it was. The very thing Connor had been afraid of all along, but couldn’t avoid.

Evan had never been one for making unnecessary eye contact - Connor could count on one hand the number of times he’d really looked him in the eye. But now, Evan was staring right at him, his blue eyes wide and clear. “I’ve always felt that way. I...that was the whole point. It was in my - in my letter.”

A strange sense of unreality swept over Connor. “But I’ve hurt you. I’ve used you.” The words tasted bitter, but at least they were the truth. “How could you love me now?”

Now it was Evan’s turn to go red. “How could I not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every little comment is like a gift. Like a belated Christmas gift or something. So thank you for commenting :)


	13. The Truth (All of It)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing could be more surreal than Connor Murphy holding hands with him in the school corridor just because he wanted to. The concept of someone willingly hanging out with him, and not because they were bound by some kind of contract, was dizzying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quite short, but it's building up to a big finale! (Which may or may not have something to do with the Murphy family ski trip.)

_4:57pm_

**Acornhansen** : Hey.

 **Acornhansen** : I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but if I don’t say this now, I never will. And you’re probably not going to like what I’m going to say.

 **Acornhansen** : [file upload]

_8:10pm_

**Insanelysooljk** : evan?

 **Acornhansen** : I’m still here.

 **Insanelycooljk** : okay bear with me for a sec

 **Insanelycooljk** : but did you just send me an entire word document to explain this to me?

 **Acornhansen** : It didn’t convert into a text message, so I had to.

 **Insanelycooljk** : okay fine

 **Insanelycooljk** : but an entire word doc?

 **Insanelycooljk** : see, THIS is the old evan i’ve been missing

 **Acornhansen** : You missed me?

 **Insanelycooljk** : don’t you dare tell anyone i said that

 **Acornhansen** : My mouth is sealed. Now have you read it?

 **Insanelycooljk** : yeah. and it’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever read.

 **Acornhansen** : Does that mean we can be family friends again?

 **Insanelycooljk** : friends.

 **Acornhansen** : Friends.

 **Acornhansen** : Also, is there something wrong with your shift button?

 **Insanelycooljk** : no, why?

 **Acornhansen** : It’s just that you never use capital letters.

 **Insanelycooljk** : that’s such a dumb thing to notice

 **Insanelycooljk** : like, only you would notice that

 **Insanelycooljk** : and it’s because i’m trying to be edgy

 **Acornhansen** : Is this the part where I say that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever read?

 **Insanelycooljk** : damn this murphy guy’s rubbed off on you. next thing i know you’ll be using actual swear words like what the fuck

*

Why was everything so okay? It wasn’t as if Evan was complaining, but it was just strange. There was literally no one who had a problem with the fact that he and Connor had been lying to them for the past few months. They were practically _pleased_ about it. Evan almost wanted someone to yell at him, because at least that would be realistic.

Except, nothing could be more surreal than Connor Murphy holding hands with him in the school corridor just because he wanted to. The concept of someone willingly hanging out with him, and not because they were bound by some kind of contract, was dizzying.

Maybe that was why everyone was so delighted with the situation. Because the whole thing was so unbelievable that they just didn’t accept it as real.

The only hurdle Evan hadn’t cleared was Zoe. He still couldn’t figure out whether or not she hated his guts. And the prospect of spending five days at a ski resort with someone who hated your guts sounded challenging.

This was why the two words that Zoe said to Evan next were the most surprising two words of all: “Thank you.”

Those two words came after school, outside the band room. The rest of the band had filed out already, leaving Zoe, clutching her saxophone case, and Evan, holding no instrument, because he’d never played one in his life. But Zoe hadn’t asked him why he’d been outside the band room; she’d only turned to him and _thanked_ him.

Evan flinched slightly - at the unexpected nature of the words, at her intense stare, at the possibility that she could use the saxophone as a weapon (hey, anything was possible when it came to protective siblings). “W-why are you th-thanking me?”

She shrugged like it was obvious. “He’s been a lot…” she seemed to be searching for the right word. “Happier, since he met you. He hasn’t changed, so much, but he’s just a happier version of himself.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s...nothingtodowithmeImeanI - “

“Evan,” Zoe held out a hand to stop him. “Trust me. I know him better than you do, and I know that when you walk into a room he almost smiles.”

Evan knew Connor well enough to know that _almost smiling_ meant more when it came to Connor. It meant a whole lot on the inside. “That’s...good, I guess. All good in the hood.”

 _Why did he say that?_ Sometimes Evan thought he was God's mistake, and this was one such time.

He was more relieved that he reasonably should have been when Zoe just laughed. "In the hood. Sure." Then her face turned serious again, like Connor's did when his thoughts clouded over, the same worry line between the eyebrows. “That still doesn’t excuse that fact that you guys lied to everyone, but…” Zoe shrugged (as much as you could shrug with a saxophone case in your arms), “If I didn’t forgive you, Connor would kill me. So.”

Evan inhaled deeply. “Does that mean…”

Zoe smiled, and it was kind of glorious. “Friends.”

With this (equal parts apology and conciliation, Evan guessed), Zoe set off down the corridor, her ponytail swinging cheerfully behind her. “Oh, and have you actually been skiing before?” She added, pausing briefly to turn to Evan.

“Um. No.”

“Oh my gosh. Connor’s going to destroy you.” She didn’t turn back this time, only kept walking, but Evan could have sworn her girlish laughter - _with_ him, not at him - was ringing in his ears until he got home.

*

“Your sister’s still...scary.”

“She’d not _so_ bad.”

“She’s protective of you. Did you know that?”

“Pssh. No she’s not. Shit, Evan, why’d you stop?”

“Stop w-what?”

“You _know_ what.”

“But I can’t talk and do that at the same time.”

“How about we just don’t talk, then?”

*

“It’s late. I sh-should go home.”

“Or you could kiss me again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think - I love reading your comments.


	14. Bambi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So he took Connor’s hand (crushed it, more accurately), squeezed his eyes shut, and pushed himself forward.
> 
> And suddenly it felt like flying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be some skiing in this chapter. It is, after all, the Great Annual Murphy Ski Trip. However, please note that the author went skiing literally once and that was seven years ago, so don't mind the technical inaccuracies.
> 
> All ski-related techicalities aside, enjoy the final instalment!

Evan was pretty sure he’d heard the words, “Connor, no” at least twenty times now since they’d got in the car. Those words - simple, but effective - had been said by different people with varying degrees of frustration. For instance:

“Connor, no,” muttered Zoe, snatching back the snacks that Connor had stolen from her. “I told you to bring your own Cheetos.”

“Connor, no.” Cynthia shot Connor a withering look from the front seat. Connor had used the bluetooth (as if Cynthia knew what that was) to connect his phone to the car speakers, and he was playing ‘RIP 2 My Youth’ at full volume.

“Connor, no,” said Alana, after Connor had been kicking her seat for approximately ten minutes. “There’s a difference between having long legs and giving me a back injury.”

“Connor, no.” It was Larry’s turn, and he took the opportunity to berate Connor every time he changed the conversation to an ‘inappropriate’ topic.

The only person who hadn’t said it was Evan. And, to be honest, there was no need to, because now the excitement of the journey had faded a little. Something like peace - or, at least, the closest to peace you were ever going to get with the whole Murphy family plus two stuffed into a metal box on wheels - settled on them. Larry was driving at the front, with Cynthia beside him, navigating Google Maps with some degree of success. Zoe and Alana were huddled at the very back, sharing an earbud each.

And Evan and Connor were in the middle, Evan trying to ignore the numbness creeping up his arm because someone had fallen asleep on it. Except he’d never tell Connor to wake up. He’d never say no to him. Connor felt like a gift.

The sky had darkened to dusk by the time they arrived, and by that time everyone had woken up, including Connor, who stretched his arm and bumped it against the ceiling. He swore.

“Language!” said Larry, before Connor could even finish cursing. But at least it wasn’t an argument. It wasn’t yelling. Whether Connor and Larry were holding back because there were guests present, or whether they were actually beginning to get on with each other, was a mystery, but it worked.

Again: not peace. But some semblance of it.

*

The second unpleasant surprise (the first one being that Zoe had, in fact, been the one to steal Connor’s Cheetos, and not the other way round) came as soon as they checked into the resort. The four of them - Connor, Evan, Zoe, and Alana - hung back in the lobby as Cynthia and Larry were retrieving the key cards from the front desk. Connor and Zoe were bickering about who’d beat who on the black slope, and Evan and Alana were rolling their eyes at each other behind their backs, when Larry appeared with his suitcase and announced that they’d only booked three rooms. “One for the adults,” he said, “one for the girls, and one for the boys.”

Evan hadn’t mentally prepared himself for this eventuality. He was still trying to compute the concept in head head while Larry handed him his key card. The key card he’d be using to get into his room. With Connor.

He was going to be sharing a room with Connor.

Connor - his new roommate - seemed unperturbed, and oblivious to Evan’s surprise. He just took Evan’s hand gently with a “Let’s go,” and led him upstairs, because he knew elevators made Evan panicky.

The corridors had been decorated to look like the inside of a Swiss chalet, with animal skin rugs hung on the walls and light fixtures that were meant to look like real fire. Their room was decorated the same way - there was even a moose’s skull mounted on the wall, which did nothing to calm the uneasy feeling that had settled in Evan’s stomach like a stone.

“It’s not much for a first date, but it’s something,” joked Connor, hauling his duffel bag onto his bed (there were two seperate beds, thank God) and proceeding to throw himself onto it.

Evan just stood there and chuckled nervously in response. He wondered if the moose’s skull was real. Weren’t moose a protected species? How did they even find a -

“Evan.” It was Connor’s voice that snapped him out of his thoughts and back into the room. “You okay?”

Evan nodded unconvincingly. “Yeah.” He realised that it was the most he’d spoken since the car ride, when Zoe had asked him whether he wanted to share her snacks and he’d politely declined. His voice felt rough, underused. “It’s just...I know we’ve known each other for a - a while now. But this - “ He spread his hands wide - “is new. All of this.”

Connor knew that _this_ didn’t just mean the room. _This_ meant them, their relationship, and everything that came with it. “You may not have considered it, but this is new to me too.”

Evan’s voice was small. Getting smaller by the second. “At least - at least you’ve _dated_ before. I haven’t.”

Connor was still sitting on his bed, while Evan was still standing, and it was kind of comforting to be taller than Connor for once. Especially when Evan felt small in every other way.

“But I’ve never cared about someone like I care about you,” said Connor, and Evan knew that he meant it, because he was scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably and shifting his weight around. A confession like that - the truth - never came easily. “That’s what makes this new. And scary.”

Evan didn’t reply right away. He just let the truth settle on his shoulders, the thing he’d dreamed of but never believed would be real. _I care about you._

Connor broke the silence with, “I snore, by the way.”

Evan gave him a small smile. “Sometimes I talk in my sleep.”

“Oh, really?” Connor grinned pointedly, then lay down as if he was sleeping. “‘ _Methuselah is the oldest tree in the -_ ‘“

Now Evan was laughing. “Second oldest.”

“Nerd.” Except, coming from Connor, it was the sweetest term of endearment. Evan almost forgot about everything else, even the Moose’s skull.

*

At least Evan and Alana were in the same boat: that is, neither of them had learned to ski, nor did they have any idea where to start. They were also similar in the sense that both of them were in love with a Murphy. So it turned out they had a lot more in common than you’d think.

“We’ve just gotta make sure Zoe and Connor don’t kill each other,” said Alana, fastening the last strap on her ski boots.

Evan laughed nervously, and he could have sworn his breath crystallised in the air in front of him. “That can be your job.”

Suddenly Evan felt a warm hand on his arm. “Let me help with that,” said Connor, kneeling down before Evan could protest and fastening his boots for him. Evan watched Connor’s fingers stupidly as they worked, silently marvelling at how slender and graceful they were. Like pianist’s fingers.

“All done.” Connor got up swiftly and extended a hand to Evan, who took it gratefully. He was unsteady on his feet already, and this was before his skis had been fitted.

“Aren’t your hands cold?” He asked.

“Not when you’re holding them,” said Connor smoothly. “C’mon. Let’s get you some skis.”

*

Evan was compared to a lot of things when he was on skis, but the one that seemed to stick was _bambi._ Because he was so clumsy, and his legs were flailing around so much, that he bore a stark resemblance to a fawn.

In his defence, Connor kept turning round (effortlessly. He was infuriatingly graceful on skis) and kissing his nose, so it really wasn’t his fault that he was distracted.

While Zoe and Connor raced each other mercilessly, going up on the ski lift and down the slippery slopes so many times it was making Evan dizzy, and Alana waited at the bottom of the slope to give Zoe victory kisses when she finished, Evan spent more time being distracted by the trees than actually utilising his skis.

But who could blame him? The snow was so heavy that it weighed down the branches, and when a bird settled on a branch, a flurry of snow tumbled off the branch and set up a domino effect by which all the branches were suddenly cleared of snow, only to reveal the lush green underneath, like an undiscovered emerald.

Connor skied up to him so smoothly that Evan jumped when he saw him. “Dreaming of trees?”

“Shut up,” said Evan, smiling all the same. He liked that he could joke with Connor. It made him feel invincible.

“Why don’t you do a slope with me? The trees’ll still be there when you come back.”

Evan’s joke froze in midair. “B-but I couldn’t. I’d - “

“You’d what?” Connor’s smile was gentle coaxing. “Fall?”

“Well...yeah.”

“Then I’ll be right there to catch you.”

“”Wh-what if you don’t get there in time?”

“Then,” Connor was already skiing away, indicating for him to follow. “You’ll have a cool injury to show off to everyone at school.”

Evan flailed after him, wincing as the boots bit into his shins. “No one would sign my cast, though.”

Connor turned around effortlessly and kissed Evan on the lips. The kiss was warm, and his voice was bright. “I would.”

In all their bickering, they’d made it to the ski lift: another thing that Evan hadn’t anticipated. His heart kicked up a fuss, beating irregularly like it always did when unexpected things happened.

But the ride up was surprisingly okay - made significantly okayer by Connor doing ridiculous things like making faces in the glass at the people in the cart next to them and making the cart wobble by jumping up and down (“Connor, no”, Evan said when he did this, then laughed inwardly as he remembered the countless “Connor, no”s he’d heard on the journey here).

The next obstacle to negotiate was the slope itself. It didn’t look too terrifying, Evan reasoned. The only thing holding him back was, oh, the fear of a painful death. But Evan told himself that if he was always that pessimistic, he’d never get anything done. Besides, he couldn’t go home and tell him mom that he hadn’t actually done any skiing.

So he took Connor’s hand (crushed it, more accurately), squeezed his eyes shut, and pushed himself forward.

And suddenly it felt like flying.

Evan hazarded to open his eyes a crack, and he could see the trees rushing past him, the branches and the snow blurring into one, and then he thought: _Wait, it’s the other way round - I’m rushing past the trees._

In other words: _I’m actually doing this._

_We’re doing this._

And in that split-second, flashing moment, Evan was grateful that his mom had sent those letters. Because if she hadn’t, he wouldn’t be here, facing his fears with a boyfriend who would catch him if he fell. 

*

“You were good. I’m serious.”

“I-I was?”

“A natural ski champion.” Connor looked at him slyly out of the corner of his eye. Evan went scarlet - he still wasn’t used to being looked at - noticed - by Connor. Not like _that,_ anyway.

“Connor?”

“Mm hmm.”

“If your parents find us here, what would they think?”

“They’d think we were just two bros chilling in a hot tub.”

Evan frowned. “But really.”

Connor kissed his ear, sending a shiver down Evan’s spine despite the warmth of the water they were in. “Relax. They’re probably still in the spa, or whatever they do.”

It still wasn’t a satisfying answer, but Evan relaxed anyway, leaning his head back and soaking up this moment. He was in a hot tub. With Connor Murphy. Wearing minimal clothing.

Evan would think that he was dreaming, only that this was too good even for him to make up.

Now Connor was close close to him that their arms brushed underwater.

“You know, when we started fake dating…” Connor began, then trailed off.

“Yes?”

Connor avoided his gaze. “It’s nothing.”

But Evan could tell that it was something, so he pushed just a little harder. “What is it? Tell me.”

Connor sighed, then took a deep breath. “When we started fake dating, I had no idea I’d start to have actual feelings.” He grimaced - Evan knew he hated speeches. “But I’m glad I did. Okay, that’s it - that’s the most romantic thing you’re ever getting from me. Ugh.”

But Evan was mesmerised. By the words he’d just said, by the stray hair that had fallen out of his bun, by the way he’s become as familiar to him as home. “That was really romantic. You should write a novel."

“Oh, shut up,” said Connor, right before he pulled Evan onto his lap and kissed him like it was the first and the last time they’d ever be together like this.

*

_To all the boys and all the girls and everyone who doesn’t believe in love at first sight,_

_I don’t either. Believe in love at first sight, I mean. I just wanted to write that because it sounded cool in my head, only it turns out it doesn’t look nearly as cool on paper._

_Anyway._

_I may not believe in love at first sight, but I do believe that you can fall in love with someone little by little._

_Like, it sounds stupid, and you won’t believe me (unless it happens to you, and I really hope it does), but you can feel indifferent to them one minute and the next you can be worrying about whether they get home safe, and thinking about them way more than you should. You start noticing things: the way he threads his fingers together when he’s anxious, how he never wears the same polo shirt twice (though he has so many of the same ones), the little creases around his eyes when he laughs. You want to make him laugh like that again and again. You realise that if you ever see him hurt, it’ll break you. You read his favourite book, even if it’s boring as shit, just so you know what the hell he’s talking about when he mentions it._

_What I’m trying to say is this: one letter can go a long way._

_And that’s really all I have to say._

_Sincerely,_

_Connor Murphy_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for taking this crazy ride with me! This is probably the longest writing project I've ever finished, which is a great feeling. An extra special thank you to all of you who've given kudos and commented the whole way - I couldn't have finished this without you.


End file.
